All is Fair: Zayn Malik Fanfiction

Chapter 6

*Jessie's POV*

I get into the car, and so does Zayn. He turns on the car, and a familiar song comes on the radio. Lego House, by Ed Sheeran.

"I love this song," I say. I begin to hum along, completely entranced when the soft melody turns into the vicious screeches of dubstep. My hand immediately reaches for the radio, and Zayn blocks it. "Why'd you change it?" I almost yell.

He raises his hand. "Relax, I'm just seeing what else is on." He shakes his head and goes through the stations. Zayn returns it to Ed, and I grin, feeling like I won a competition he did not know he was in.

The rest of the drive to the store is silent. I tap my fingers on the armrest, desperately trying to make noise. I start to explore his car. There is an empty soda can in the cup holder, but other than that, it is clean. I get bored once again, and I start to look at Zayn. He is wearing a grey t-shirt and a jean jacket. His fingers are tapping the wheel, and I think it is for the same reason it was for me. I examine his face. I wonder if he always looks so pouty. I think back to all the memories I have had with Zayn and come to a conclusion: Yes. Always.

He notices me staring at him in the corner of his eye and grins. When he smiles, the pout goes away. "What?" he asks, clearly amused by catching me.

I look away. My cheeks start to burn. "Nothing." There is no way I am going to discuss with Zayn how pouty his face looks.

Zayn looks back to the road with the same stupid smile. He wets his lips with his tongue and there is silence again.

We survive the drive to the art store and we both get out of the car.

"So what's the game plan?" He asks as we head to the entrance. "Divide and conquer?"

"I was thinking we just buy whatever looks interesting."

He smirks. "Great plan."

Zayn opens the door and a bell hanging from it rings. The woman at the checkout greets us. I grab a basket, and we go through the store, basically sticking to the plan. We throw in random things: paint, yarn, glitter, even jelly beans. We buy everything once we decide we are done.

Zayn and I walk to the car. We hop in, and he asks, "Do you mind if I take you somewhere before we go back?"

"It depends where we are going," I say.

"There's this gelato place a couple minutes away."

Gelato. That means ice cream. Being the fatass that I am, I readily agree. Zayn starts to drive, and after a few minutes, I see a sign that says gelato. He drives right past it.

"Wasn't that the gelato store?" I ask, really confused.

He looks at it in the mirror. "Yep," he says. Okay. Zayn drives into an empty parking lot, and I start to worry. All the rumors I have heard about Zayn go through my mind. I have see this on TV. This is how people get raped. My heart starts to pound against my chest.

"Why are we here?" I stutter.

He rolls up the windows and turns off the car. "Because," he says, "there's free parking."

Right. Of course. I get out of the car. "If I knew this would require exercise, I would have never agreed to it," I mostly jokingly remark. I pull my pants up.

"What is that?"

I stop. "What?" I ask, wondering what embarrassing detail about myself will be introduced now.

He scrunches up his nose. "That... Dance girls do when they pull there pants up."

"Well," I start to think. I never realized I do it. "I honestly don't know," I say.

He laughs to himself. I start to blush, not even sure why. The two of us walk for a few minutes before we reach the store. Once we enter, the smell of freshly made waffle cones overwhelms me.

Zayn orders first. Mint chocolate chip, double scooped on a waffle cone. I order strawberry on a waffle cone, and as I do, I notice one of the clerks walking around. He turns and sees Zayn and I. Zayn tenses; he looks uncomfortable.

"Hey, Zayn," the young man with the blue eyes says hesitantly.

Zayn looks pissed, but he starts off with a smile. "Hey, Lou." That's who he is, Louis Tomlinson. He goes to our high school. Why did I not recognize him? I think back to my obliviousness when I first met Zayn, and then I am not so surprised at my bad observation skills.

"Who's this?" He nods toward me.

"This is Jessie," he says. Zayn starts to run his hand through his hair, a sign that I have learned means he is nervous. "We were buying supplies for an art project and we decided to get some gelato."

"Oh," Louis says. He looks back at me and returns to his work. Zayn pays for everything and rushes us out of the building. That was weird. I am going to ask him why he was so anxious, but almost immediately he returns to normal, playful Zayn. He starts to insist the car is parked to the right, but I know it is to the left. I remember because I was thinking about how I would have to walk uphill to get back to the car. I give in though after enough persistence.

I eat my gelato with the green plastic spoon they put in it. We are not talking, and I wonder if this is awkward for Zayn. It is not for me, I am too occupied with my ice cream to care. I finish my gelato soon and decide it is time to start a conversation.

"I have a question."

Zayn has also finished his gelato, even though it was double scooped. I start to reason I am not the only fatass here. "Shoot."

"Why the hell are we walking toward the beach? You know it's the wrong way."

He shrugs. "I figured it would give us time to eat." We could have finished while walking to the car, I think. I suppose Zayn realizes this, because he decides to give a more legit answer. "And, ya know, we can talk and stuff."

I look at the ground trying to hide the smile that is forming. Wait, what am I thinking? We have not had a real subject yet. But I guess it was cute to bring me out here to spend time with me. Cuter than getting raped.

Zayn nods his head like he is deciding to say what he is thinking. "What were your parents fighting about, the day your dad died?"

"Oh," I say. That is a major turn off question for me. "It was nothing."

"Go on."

I glare at him. "They were fighting about me, happy?" I bite.

He frowns. "No. I bought you gelato, come on."

"That was what the gelato was for?"

"Not initially. Just tell me, please?" He sounds like Eve with all his begging. I sigh.


*FLASHBACK OOH AHH*

I join Isaac at the top of the stairs and we listen to our parents' "conversation."

"What the fuck do you want me to do, Catherine?" I wince at his words. I have never heard my dad curse before. And although the words are common at school, they sound foreign coming from his mouth.

"It's not that hard," my mom hisses. "Can't you take five goddamn minutes out of your day to take your daughter to football (soccer) practice?"

"I told you I can't, I'll be busy."

"You're always too busy to do anything for them." Her voice raises. "You have enough time to screw around with your fucking girlfriend and you don't have time for your children?"

Each hateful word hurts me like a stab in the gut. The pain is sharp and sudden. It dulls away only to be brought back by something else they say. I cannot help feeling it was my fault dad left us. Being the subject of this fight does not bring any comfort. I look at Isaac who seems like he is taking the fight pretty well. But there is no way he can be normal through all of this. I look at his hands and see the scars on his wrists. They have faded since they first were formed almost a year ago. Seeing them reminds me of how he was when mom and dad split up, and I can imagine that he is probably taking this fight worse than I am.

*END OF FLASHBACK WOO*

I shiver. I have to change the subject. It is Zayn's turn to feel uncomfortable. "What happened back there in the gelato store?"

"Well, uh," he clears his throat. "You never answered my question."

"It's not as easy to talk about as you might think."

He looks at the ground and says nothing. We do not talk for a while. I figure it is because we do not know what to say. This time, it is awkward. I have no ice cream to hide in, so I try to fill my thoughts that are solely on what Zayn is thinking with what I think about the people at the beach. I actually begin to contemplate telling Zayn about my parents just because the silence is killing me.

"I still have your drawing," Zayn says completely out of the blue.

"I have yours too," I say, thanking God that the silence is over.

He frowns. "So it's not impressive yet."

I laugh. "Tell me you have it in a year, then it will be impressive." Actually, I am quite impressed. It makes sense that I have his. His was worth keeping. But I would think Zayn would be ashamed of the drawing I gave him or find it useless or something. My drawing was a piece of shit.

It starts to get cloudy and cold, so I ask Zayn to take me home. He drives me home and parks in front of my house.

"Thanks. It was fun for the most part," I say sarcastically.

"For the most part?" He exclaims.

"Well it was better than sitting on the couch all day."

"You're damn right it was." We laugh. The smile soon fades away, and I do not know what to do anymore. I sit in the car looking at anything but Zayn.

"So I'll see you Monday," he says.

"Yeah," I reply, maybe a little bit too enthusiastically. "Bye." I quickly shuffle out of the car and walk to the house. I get inside and rest on the door until I hear Zayn drive away.

Isaac hears me and walks over. "You guys spent that much time at the art store? It's almost 6:30."

"We got some ice cream."

"So?" I guess that was not a good enough answer for him. But why do I have to answer to my brother?

"The line was long," I sass. I walk up the stairs without looking at Isaac.

"Jessie," he says. I stop. My jaw is clenched tight. I already know how Isaac feels about Zayn, but I do not want to hear it. "Listen, I can tell this guy is bad news. I don't think you should get too close to him."

I roll my eyes. I am getting the same speech I got from Charlotte not too long ago. I do not even have feelings for Zayn, we are just friends. Why do they have to make such a big deal over nothing?

"I'm just warning you." I start to walk up the stairs again and into my room without answering. As I do, I hear Isaac cursing under his breath. I slam the door shut throw off my shoes and flop onto the bed. I let out a loud sigh.

Zayn is not bad. Everyone says he is such a douchebag or a dick or what not. But he is sweet. He helped me forget about my problems for a day, which is something no one has done. I lie there not knowing if I want to sleep or not. Sleep usually gets me away from the confusion of the day, and I welcome it. But now of days, it comes with the horrors my subconscious holds. I go on my phone for a few hours and eventually fall asleep.